Tea with Aizen
by puts foot in mouth
Summary: The war has ended. The Hōgyoku has matured and with it so has the power and influence of its wielder. Aizen has tea with what's left from both sides. Numerous characters. Chapters are short with an emphasis on succinct storytelling.
1. Twelve sit down for tea

**Tea with Aizen**

The war is over. A few uncounted people and the few that sit drinking tea with Aizen are all that remain of the Gotei-13 and the Espada combined.

Stark sits directly to Aizen's left, though slumped would be a more accurate description as he lightly snores with arms folded.

Directly to Aizen's right, Kuchiki Byakuya sits stiffly; his light green scarf dyed a rusty brown from repeated struggles as a new injury, inflicted only minutes ago as the screaming started, seeps from a bruised mouth. Yachiru sits on his lap. Pink head buried into the chest of her new surrogate father.

Beside the noble, Urahara sits with his hat on still, as with eyes shaded he sips at his tea and keeps his thoughts hidden.

Shuuhei has nothing to say, his eyes communicating his feelings for him. Ulquiorra sits across from the tattooed man wearing the same dead expression – the only difference being that he has always worn it.

Yammi shadows half the room as he towers behind his superior, not being permitted a seat at the table, his heavy features moulded into a mimicking mask of sorrow.

Further along the table Captain Unohana and her lieutenant stare at Aizen with calm indifference.

Strangled cries echo now and again in answer to Mayuri's absence. Orihime, seated on Aizen's knee as he gently holds her to him, is deathly pale with grief as her face twists in time to each cry of pain.

The last in this ensemble, Matsumoto only has eyes for Orihime as she tries to communicate her support through watery smiles.

But they do nothing to still Orihime's horror, for there can be no denial and even Yachiru recognises the noises for what they are. Ichigo Kurosaki and Ishida Uryuu lie upon Mayuri's operating table.


	2. A small rebellion

Byakuya does not deign to drink his tea. His eyes are stony as he stares ahead, refusing to look at the host.

"Isn't this nice?" Aizen announces. "All of us here drinking tea like civilised people."

Shuuhei stiffens.

"Yes, Lord Aizen." Ulquiorra obediently supplies with Yammi stumbling after him to offer the same answer.

"I wonder," Unohana calmly ventures, "what possible application the dissection of Kurosaki Ichigo and Ishida Uryuu has." She gazes directly at Aizen as she speaks.

"My dear Unohana – why it has none at all."

What happens next is kaleidoscopic.

Shuuhei launches himself across the table to attack Aizen. Byakuya, being closer, beats him to it; only the thing he attacks is not Aizen and so the action proves useless as he wrestles with the man's zanpakutou before suddenly disappearing.

Unohana and her lieutenant rise from their seats and watch as Shuuhei wrestles with the forceful yet expressionless soldier that is Ulquiorra. Behind them, Yammi wrings his arms, hoping to be given an order to attack.

Urahara has only moved to unfold his fan before his face, to more properly hide what he is feeling.

Orihime slumps by Aizen's now empty chair, her small form enveloped by the equally small framed yet voluptuous Matsumoto, who has also begun to cry.

Stark is still snoozing.

A few seconds pass before Aizen appears close to the dining table, the bloodied body of Byakuya appearing down by his feet; Yachiru still clings to the unconscious man as she glares up at the figure threatening the only real thing left to her.

And still the screaming continues.


	3. A cat amongst the rubble

A black cat purposely moves through the ruins of what was once a thriving town.

The feline disappears into a pile of rubble that roughly resembles a coffee shop. A sign showing steaming cappuccino half hangs from the glass front of the collapsed building.

Inside the rubble a single lantern burns, illuminating two figures. White hair streaked orange by the lantern light moves feebly as Hitsugaya struggles with a fever.

A sleep deprived Hanatarou kneels besides the unconscious captain and is in the process of re-dressing a shoulder wound. He halts when Yoruichi emerges from the shadows; a robe hastily placed on her person to protect the healer's sensibilities.

"You should rest."

"I'm fine," Hanatarou says tiredly. "Captain Hitsugaya needs me."

Yoruichi seats herself, cross-legged, by Hanatarou's side and stares into the darkness.

"What will we do when he awakens?" Hanatarou timidly asks.

"I will deal with him," Yoruichi says sadly.

"What will we do now?"

"We'll survive. Have you finished with the new dressing?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Yoruichi moves lightening fast to deliver sleep to the stubborn and caffeine fuelled healer. Then she lets the lantern burn itself to nothing as she keeps her one woman vigil over the two unconscious shinigami she is now protecting.


	4. A small comfort given

Unohana, Isane and Matsumoto huddle around the bed, as together they administer the simple sleeping draught to a distraught Orihime in the hopes of relieving her pain for a short time; as they endure their own individual torments in silence.

Shuuhei still has nothing to say and slumps against the furthest wall, his face palmed in his hands as dried blood flakes away from his forehead.

Urahara sits on the sofa, fretfully playing with his own hands as he considers his part in this tragedy.

Yachiru proves similarly inconsolable after her extraction from Byakuya's still body. She now lies beneath the sofa; her small hands fisted in anger as she glares out at the room and wills the tears to stop.

And in the corner, Ulquiorra stands guard over them all. Mute, immovable and the very definition of emotional detachment as his sad eyes fix upon each and every captive with impersonal regard. The immediate aftermath of the rebellion at tea is being recorded now, and will later be replayed for Aizen's own enjoyment.


	5. Eight for tea and one casualty

Aizens' guests are once again seated for tea, with a new warning that further misconduct will lead to elimination.

Orihime, Matsumoto and Ulquiorra are absent from the gathering. Mayuri is sadly present and is seated across from a visibly shaking Shuuhei. The warning grip of Unohana as she presses down onto his arm does little to calm his rattling.

Byakuya obediently sips at his tea, and even nods in acknowledgement of its pleasant taste when Aizen enquires if it is good. He is motivated to behave by the child sitting on his lap, who is doing likewise as she sips at her own cup; in a sweet imitation of his own gestures.

The conversation the noble had earlier with Aizen, and the possibility of a repeat of Yachiru's orphan status has prioritised his behaviour. He will submit to whatever is asked of him. He will sacrifice his pride for Yachiru; for her he will bury his hatred under a veil of civility.

Shuuhei has no such motivations. He has no one left that he cares about, no one left to reign in his rebelliousness as he stands, Unohana's hand relinquishing its grip with understanding. Tousen and Kira are dead and he hopes to join them. Why should she be the one to deny him that freedom? It is the only one left to him now.

"You bastard!" He screams, moving to attack Mayuri.

Stark moves faster. His blade entering just below the tattooed man's collarbone and continuing downwards to his groin until it meets air again. The two halves of Shuuhei (joined by his head and shoulders alone) collapse onto the table.

Isane faints into Unohana's arms, and Urahara's teacup violently shakes.

Byakuya lowers his own cup onto the creeping bloodstain that is now the table's surface, to better enclose the small child in his arms. Yachiru snuggles into his chest as warm wetness soaks through his uniform.

Mayuri, gives a cursory glance at the dead man dripping blood onto his white uniform before continuing his report on the 'specimens' down in his laboratory.


	6. A hero dies

The pain is lessening. Pain piled upon pain so that he sometimes doesn't even know his name. Any higher mental functions being continually drowned out by the force of his agony. Yet, the pain is lessening and with the reduction in physical suffering awareness begins to assert itself once more.

He remembers that he is Kurosaki Ichigo. He is a substitute shinigami, student, brother, son, comrade, friend; titles that are now unveiled to reveal his identity.

Ichigo opens his eyes for the last time, blurred gaze meeting a pale face. He is dying. He knows it. He knows. He doesn't even need the panicked babbling of the hollow within to realise this. He knows and it makes him sad. He has failed.

Ichigo thinks about his sisters. He thinks about the people in Karakura Town, naked to Aizen's aims at Kingship without his intervention. He has failed. Ichigo thinks on his perceived failure. He worries about Rukia and Orihime. But mostly he thinks about his sisters, alone and unprotected. That is his last thought.

Ichigo dies with his eyes open and glazed. The hoarse scream of Uryuu, as the Quincy sees his comrade die beside him, never reaching the dead teen's ears.


	7. The sacrifice

Aizen moves inside her, and she in turns moves in time to him. She has to make him enjoy this more than the frigid and tearful young woman who has been forced to enjoy his attentions for months now. His lust must be redirected.

She can see that she is succeeding in his half lidded eyes. She can observe it in the pink sweat soaked glean of his skin as he steadies one hand beside her for leverage. The other hand traces the lines of her abdomen with light caresses that make her skin tingle.

His eyes never leave hers as he works at a nipple, tongue flicking out to encourage the pink bud to grow. It is a two way thing. She feels a little of his lust permeate her person, and she does not fight it. She does not oppose her body's natural response to the pleasing stimulus. For flesh does not have the power to distinguish what the mind can. He is a monster, but right here and right now, he is an excellent lover and there is no shame in enjoying his skilful manipulation of her body.

She feels the pleasure of his rhythm as he moves inside her. He is sometimes slow and sometimes fast, his thick length pressing deep inside on every stroke.

She moans at the wonderful white heat beginning to coalesce in her loins. It spreads outwards to every part of her anatomy, a strong vibration that lights up all her nerve endings. She is drowning in sensation.

He is going to climax alongside her; she can feel the pressure building so she tightens her legs around his back to urge deeper penetration. She will get satisfaction, when all is said and done. It is sex. Nothing more. She is old and wise enough to separate the physical act from the hatred she actively feels towards the man she is willingly riding. A trade. Her body in lieu of Orihime's. Her humanitarian nature will allow her no less than this small mercy.

They both come hard. They both come panting and they both feel satisfaction at the bargain that has been placed.

* * *

She uses his en-suite bathroom to shower, and takes her time dressing and re-braiding her long hair. She is indifferent to his stares as she does so.

"My dear Unohana, my compliments. However, it'll be oral next time."

"As you wish it, Lord Aizen," she says serenely, an emotion that comes easily, before exiting his bedroom with the same dignity she had upon entry.


	8. Hitsugaya

"What happened?"

"He suddenly awoke and he raved about Aizen and Hinamori. I tried to calm him down and he, he. He..." Hanatarou stares down at his own legs encased in ice.

"He's still weak," Hanatarou affirms with a fresh tremor as Yoruichi works at his ice encased body with fire kidō. The scavenged supplies are forgotten in her efforts to free the healer from a slow acting death.

* * *

"We've found another one," the policeman reports into his walkie-talkie.

Yoruichi can hear screams of 'Aizen,' interspersed with 'Hinamori' as a still feverish Hitsugaya is held down by four men attempting to manhandle his preternatural strength into the waiting ambulance.

Yoruichi watches from a wary distance, angered at this new development. She wants to act now, to remove Hitsugaya from the well intentioned yet harmful men who have him, but knows that it is unwise. The situation will have to be handled delicately, with no sudden moves or demonstrations of overt strength given Aizen's new and ever increasing omnipotence.

She will follow and wait for an opening instead.


	9. A yellow belly

The hallway is bleached white and is deathly quiet. Until the sounds of two hurried footsteps break the silence as Matsumoto doggedly drags Urahara into the deserted area.

"Where is your courage?" she hisses to the lagging blond.

They finally halt, both of them breathing heavily. She speaks hurriedly, blue eyes constantly surveying either end of the corridor, fearful of unfriendly eyes and ears. Urahara also strains to hear any sound not made by either of them.

"I'm not fucking around here. Either you do something or I'll do something to you, and it won't be pleasant. You need to get some of us out. As many as you can. Yachiru and Ishida must be first priority." Words clipped and matter of fact.

"Ichigo?" Urahara dares to ask with a tightening chest.

"Dead. Like we'll all be if this goes on much longer."

Urahara bows his head at the confirmation, still clinging to the hope that the death of their strongest ally was merely an illusion, reasoning that Aizen had more ingenuous uses for the boy.

"Well," she demands, "are you going to help us or not? Help yourself, even."

"It's too dangerous to form opposition at this point," Urahara counters, playing for time.

"And continuing on as we have been doing is perfectly safe, is it?"

"If we do as he says."

"What happened to the man who broke the rules and defied authority? The man who tried to change things, where is he now?"

"You have no right to ask that."

Matsumoto merely folds her arms over her ample bosom. "Yellow hair to match your yellow heart, eh Kisuke?"

"What do you propose?" he whispers, hurt by the truth of the allegation, and the sting of her words.

Matsumoto is about to answer but the sound of heavy steps fast approaching make her start, eyes widening in worry.

"Rukia!" Matsumoto blurts before hurrying away.

Kisuke remains, holding a hand to his temple briefly, considering the possibilities. He completely understands what it is she is asking. But can it be done?


	10. Extraction

The room is occupied by a young boy lying atop a large hospital gurney.

His eyes are shut in the sleep of the sedated, drool pooling down from a slack mouth.

The air is cool from a partially opened window. The only movement to break the stillness is that of a black feline as it quickly eases its way past the panes of glass, tail furiously twitching.

Returning to true form, Yoruichi viciously swipes the top sheet from the bed and quickly fashions a simple toga to cover her naked body.

The silent anger that has preceded her arrival quickly turns into pity as she gets a proper look at Hitsugaya's bruised body. She looks longest at the thin wrists that peek out from a hospital gown one size too big. The ice captain looks so tiny and vulnerable dwarfed by the bed in which he is resting.

Berating herself for such weakness, Yoruichi nevertheless scoops Hitsugaya into her arms with a rare gentleness. She keeps him swathed in hospital blankets in consideration of his condition, and in light of the meagre supplies they have back at the 'hole' they call a home.

Yoruichi quickly moves to the door, listening intently for any sounds of activity. The squeak of soft rubber as a nurse moves down the corridor is the only indicator of life. As soon as the steps die, Yoruichi opens the door wide with no further caution.

The corridor is empty. Yoruichi takes a deep breath in preparation of quick flight, before shunpoe-ing from the hospital in a blur of white.


	11. A plot foiled

Aizen contemplates the place settings as he waits for his two guests to arrive. He does not have to wait long before the doors to his dining room swing open with great fanfare. He does so enjoy the dramatic entrance ... and exit.

The two ladies are quickly escorted into the room by Stark and Ulquiorra.

With a wave of his hand down at the table, Aizen indicates where he wishes each woman to sit; each place marked out by a steaming teacup of coffee. The beverage has been deliberately chosen for its effects in raising the blood pressure of the drinker. The effect of this will hopefully make the finale more exciting. Or so Aizen hopes.

The Espada move to flank their God as soon as the great doors close with a mighty clang.

Aizen lets the condemned finish their drinks in strained silence with magnanimity, before pronouncing sentence.

Resting his chin on steepled fingers he gets right to the issue at hand. "It has come to my attention that the two of you plan to murder my unborn child."

Isane chokes on her last sip of coffee. Unohana merely inclines her head in agreement.

"You've both disappointed me greatly. I should think you've disappointed your profession too. All life is sacred. As healers I thought I could trust in your excellent ethics. I believed you could both rise above personal feelings. I was mistaken."

Upon the last line, Ulquiorra and Stark move to stand behind the women, who face each other on opposite sides of the table. The seating is obviously intentional. The sick bastard has obviously orchestrated this down to the last detail.

It is clear to both women what is now to happen.

Isane's bottom lip trembles as she begins to lose colour. Unohana looks remorseful but defiant. The remorse she feels is over the decision to bring the younger woman into her confidence. She only hopes that Isane will forgive her in the next life, for condemning her in this one.

"No last words?" Aizen asks in his most genial voice.

"I regret only that I could not follow through in saving the world from your issue!" Unohana says coldly.

Isane bites back a sob to say her piece, with a small smile directed at her captain. She can discern the guilt in the older woman's eyes and desperately wishes she has the time to tell Unohana that such an emotion is unwarranted. She does not hold her responsible for this outcome, after willingly walking into the plot with her eyes firmly open. Perhaps she can tell her captain this, in their next incarnations.

"I only regret that we could not save Orihime from further pain at your hands," says Isane, voice only trembling slightly.

Unohana stares into melancholy green, and Isane stares into compassionate brown. They see each others' doom in each set of eyes.

The twin sounds of swords leaving scabbards are the last sounds either healer hears, as heads are disconnected from shoulders with quiet efficiency.

"Well," Aizen says flippantly, eyeing the last spurts of blood from the stump of flesh that used to be a neck. A neck, in fact, that he had licked only this morning, "I expected a better show than that. Where are the fountains I was promised? Disappointing!"


	12. Yachiru

Byakuya holds the exhausted child close to a sodden chest. Tears are tiring things, and Yachiru has been crying for hours now. She will likely not awaken for a long length of time. If she'll awaken at all.

Byakuya tenderly strokes her hair with trembling fingers. There is moisture in his eyes that he has not known for half a century.

She is fading, being eaten up by a grief that he cannot halt. He has tried to be the father she needs, but it is not enough. Not nearly enough. Yachiru needs her Kenpachi. No other will do, and the noble understands this with a heaviness of spirit. It hurts in a way that is selfish. It hurts to know that he cannot be for Yachiru, what she is now for him. Without her, he has nothing. With him, she has nothing.

Byakuya knows all too well of this 'soul sickness.' The same sickness robbed him of his wife. Mourning for a sister she more than likely believed dead proved a terrible strain upon her health. This coupled with guilt over abandoning Rukia to likely death proved too much in the end. Such a gentle spirit could not carry such a heavy burden. He tries not to lose control of his emotions at the memory of his dear sweet Hisana, but he cannot help but be angry at the same force taking away his happiness a second time. Perhaps for the last time, as who now is left to love? And even if there were anyone else left to care for, would he want to?

He can sense the dim of Yachiru's spiritual power. She is slowly dying. Life is bleeding out of her small body. There is nothing that can stop it, save the girl's willingness to live – and Yachiru has given up on living. If things continue at the same pace, he knows this sweet cherub will be dead within hours.

Byakuya has promised an escape from Aizen. He has spoken at length of continuing afresh with new gigai and new identities. Byakuya has talked himself hoarse in the few unguarded moments they have had together. Yet it affects nothing.

Byakuya gives in to tears. Or he would have if the mountainous form of Yammi wasn't glowering from the corner. So he mourns silently instead, which is also a process he knows too well.


	13. Death denied

Mayuri Kurotsuchi is on assignment in the real world, and Urahara takes the opportunity to nose around the turncoat's laboratory – Szayel Aporro's former playground. His feet are bare; his sandals have been dispensed with before entry to lessen the impact of sole on stone.

The place is everything one expects of a high tech laboratory. The air is sterile and antiseptic. Cold fluorescent lighting and chrome and steel tubing complement the impersonal objective.

A long lone corridor, one of many, is flanked by test rooms, the doors marked by roman numerals. The large glass windows that front a few of the rooms are an intimidating black being unlit from inside. The effect is at once haunting and mysterious.

Urahara moves swiftly on, wary of his own curiosity, until he reaches the central chamber.

The light is softer here, dimmed. Much of the illumination is provided by the softly glowing monitors on the far wall – a massive bank of them. A low table, partially resting in shadow, is situated to the right, surrounded by many tubes and wires.

With long yet cautious steps, the intruder moves to the computer terminal, hoping to access information on gigai. He is very familiar with the process already, of course, after illegally adapting gigai for his own ends, but before he can embark on a plan of escape he needs to know the location of the appropriate materials. It seems logical that a database of equipment and materials will be kept here.

Urahara studiously avoids looking at the low table, aware of what horror is to be found there, as he scans the archives for the relevant details.

A few frenzied minutes of key bashing pass, as Urahara attempts to hack into certain parts of the system – only to be repeatedly denied access. He glances over his shoulder at more regular intervals as time passes, and his fear of discovery increases.

With sweat lazily meandering down his temple, Urahara finally admits defeat and quickly covers his tracks before running towards the exit. In his panic he is heedless of the extra sound it produces.

A sudden groan arrests his flight.

The test subject that lies upon the unforgiving steel surface has roused from his drug induced sleep, and is now cognizant of the presence of another.

Urahara feels his sweat cool as the teen's head turns his way, noticing of all things, how his hair is highlighted blue in places by the dull light reflecting off the apparatus.

Their eyes meet, despite Urahara's attempts not to look into the face that has suffered so much, and for so long.

What did he fear to see in those blue eyes? A plea for help? A beg for death? Condemnation?

There is a surplus of suffering but it is overshadowed by shame.

Urahara desires nothing more than to avert his eyes and to deny sight, but in the end it is Ishida Uryuu who turns his head away. It is the Quincy boy who cannot bear to be seen in this state.

* * *

It is a distraught man that lies awake on a soft bed that very same night, wondering how he manages, despite everything, to live with himself and the roads travelled.


	14. Ambush

Blackened earth is all that remains of the hideout. Hanatarou kneels close by; hands already bound in sekiseki stone – his large puppy dog eyes wet with tears. He is overshadowed by a gigantic hollow that is easily as large as an apartment block, and just as wide. Yoruichi cannot help but marvel at his size.

The fugitive shinigami holds tightly onto the feverish bundle in her arms. She has just arrived on the scene, courtesy of shunpo and now wishes she had approached the location with the usual caution. She thought only of returning Hitsugaya, as swiftly as possible, to the care of the healer. She berates her own carelessness and inattention (how could she have missed that gigantic form?) before transferring Hitsugaya to her left arm, to free her sword arm. She then draws her short sword. The young captain does not stir as he is repositioned, and nor does he respond when Yoruichi's body tenses for battle.

Hanatarou does not appear to be in any immediate danger, so Yoruichi decides to meet the threat head on. She will rescue the healer later.

Words are exchanged. She boasts and insults in equal measure, but no sooner have the words left her lips when they are forgotten. The dialogue is merely a means by which to buy time. Yoruichi's real focus is in assessing the threat the mountainous hollow poses. Sharp yellow eyes try to detect any immediately noticeable weaknesses.

However, there is little time for appraisal; as a splash of purple enters her periphery, informing her of another presence. Yoruichi quickly spins on her heel, confident for the moment that she can turn her back on her opponent, to see who it is.

This is a mistake. Instinct is the only thing to save her as she jumps to the side to avoid a fist slamming down upon the space she had previously occupied. Yoruichi spares no more time for the other presence. She already has a clear idea of who it might be, given the unmistakable spiritual signature that is only now beginning to register. Has he just arrived? Or has he been here all along? Yoruichi suspects the latter, reasoning that some kind of shielding apparatus must have been in play to cloak the man's reiatsu; otherwise she would have detected him earlier. It also might go some way into explaining her own lapse. For, even in a hurry, how could she have missed such a massive blot on such a levelled landscape?

The sun is shining, but the rays of warmth do not reach her, shadowed as she is by the giant figure of Yammi, who is quickly turning the surrounding ruins into their primary elements. Dust hangs heavy in the air, a choking cloud of debris stirred up by the powerful hollow, and Yoruichi's own flash steps. She takes the time needed to properly confirm the bastard's identity during a particularly dangerous pirouette on a lone streetlamp. Mayuri Kurotsuchi.

Burdened by Hitsugaya, Yoruichi is on the defensive, as she twists and turns to avoid Yammi's heavy handed attacks. She fires off a few Kidō spells to no affect, left palm occasionally facing outwards in a delicate balance of holding Hitsugaya securely and attacking. The temptation to flee is strong, but she guesses by the faint shimmer in the air, detectable even through the dust cloud, that a barrier has already been erected to prevent escape.

Yammi poses a big concern and yet her main worry is the turncoat scientist standing a few feet away, who is inexplicably doing nothing to aid the Hollow. This is disquieting. Suspicious, Yoruichi tries to keep her attention halved on both threats. It is an impossible task, with the earth also conspiring against her, as Yammi rips it up with his bare hands and flings great slabs of concrete into the air.

The dust cloud is not all it appears. Yoruichi realises this too late as reflexes suddenly fail and she stumbles, surprised. Her hands become nerveless, and she can only watch, powerless, as her charge slips from her arm. Her sword also slips from her grasp, but this is less important. The transition from complete control to nerve failure is almost instantaneous. She is thankful then that she is on the ground, for surely if she were up high, as she were only a few seconds ago, the impact to the young boy's body would be all the greater. As it is, he has likely only sustained cuts and bruises.

Yoruichi tries to check on Hitsugaya, but discovers she cannot, because her neck has already locked and is incapable of movement. The rest of her body is also similarly disabled and falls to the ground a heartbeat later. Her eyelids have frozen whilst shut and so she is blind to her fate, and that of her comrades.

For all her swiftness, for all her mastery and enhancement of shunpo into greater and more sophisticated forms. For all this, she is helpless in the face of the paralyzing agent, cleverly dispersed within the dust. She briefly wonders how the bastard managed to conceal Ashisogi Jizō.

There is little time for curiosity, however, before one clenched palm smashes into Yoruichi's prone form. The force of the blow violently acquaints her body with concrete. Death is just as sudden as the paralysis in its takeover of her body.


	15. Chipped Ice

Aizen sits upon his throne, eyes locked onto the small boy shackled so nicely before the dais.

Hitsugaya is clearly in the grip of a fever, his brow is soaking, his eyes are overly bright and his hair is plastered to his skull.

Aizen takes a moment just to enjoy his obvious weakness, before getting down to business.

"You know why you are here. I am a reasonable ruler, but some sins cannot be forgiven. The murder of Gin Ichimaru is one such instance," Aizen begins with an expression that suggests he expects interruption. He is quite right, for no sooner has 'reasonable' passed his lips when Hitsugaya's face twists in outrage.

"The bastard deserved to die!" he screams, struggling in his restraints as the memory of the man's demise flashes before his eyes.

_Matsumoto's heart isn't in it and he and Gin know it. Gin too, is also fighting half-heartedly. The bastard traitor is trying to take his Lieutenant out of play with non lethal strikes. No doubt so that he can better concentrate on eliminating Hitsugaya; whose shoulder injury is beginning to hinder his accuracy._

_But a non lethal strike is clearly proving more difficult than he'd imagined and the fox has to keep both eyes open to deflect the twin untimed attacks on his front and flank. _

_Hitsugaya is almost blind in his fury as he feels the dim reiatsu of his Hinamori fade to nothing. He remembers losing control, his attacks becoming sloppy and all the more dangerous to all combatants for their un-coordinated savagery. The sand they fight on billows around them, cut through by Hyorinmaru before instantly freezing to an orange coloured ice. The ice dragon is whiplashing through the air in an attempt to hit what is most hated._

_Gin dodges and parries but is unable to attack because for very opening Hitsugaya gives, Matsumoto is there to take up the slack. Haineko forcing the fox to repeatedly go on the defensive. _

_Now at the last of his strength, Hitsugaya makes his last raged lunge at the grinning evil. He must act now because much of his power is dissipating along with the blood flowing freely from his shoulder. He moves with a blind desperation. Matsumoto also decides to move at this moment, unintentionally occupying the space in which Hitsugaya's sword travels. Gin is the only one to see the grievous error. Instinct alone appears to drive him. In the milliseconds he has, the kind of time that does not allow conscious thought, he places himself between Matsumoto and the instrument promising death; which it does. _

_Hitsugaya is instantly humbled by the realization of Gin's self sacrifice, and kneels to watch as his lieutenant moves over to the mortally wounded enemy. _

_Gin still stands as Matsumoto moves to embrace him. _

"_Get off!" he immediately chokes as the blood exits his mouth with each word spoken. Matsumoto fails to listen and Hitsugaya watches her hang onto the man she loves, forcing the fox to physically shrug her off. _

"_Love... just isn't worth it," Gin finishes with closed eyes as if to deny the sight of his distraught lover. He only takes a few steps before death finds him standing and he collapses onto the icy sand, unmoving._

"Silence," Aizen commands softly, reiatsu flaring up suddenly to force the boy genius onto his knees and into the present.

With a start Hitsugaya realises he's been babbling, trapped in memory, and is inordinately grateful that Aizen has seen fit to eject him from such a painful recollection.

"Some sins," Aizen continues peaceably, as though he hasn't been interrupted, "demand severe punishment. This is one of these. You understand what it means to love, which is why the punishment shall fit the crime."

"Murder? What would you know of that?" Hitsugaya questions with disbelief. "Gin sacrificed himself to save Matsumoto. He took a strike meant for her."

"I see everything in _my_ kingdom. Nothing goes beyond _my_ notice."

It is on the tip of the ice captain's tongue to protest the accusation further, but even now it is hard to admit to what he's witnessed, even in his own mind. Difficult indeed to accept the fact that Gin proved to be so human in his actions. It is a reality he has yet to face, never mind embrace.

"Gin's death was one of many in this war, and is not deserving of some special claim to fame."

"Ah, but to the victor goes history. Regardless of the actual killing blow, you forced an outcome that led to his demise. Endangering your own lieutenant in the process."

Something in Aizen's regard shifts. The air becomes charged with a strong emotion that Hitsugaya, in his befuddled state, just can't place. "Besides the intention was there, and that's all that matters."

Hitsugaya reads his death in Aizen's grave countenance. Did Gin mean more to him than anyone realised?

"Then ... there is no defence," Hitsugaya says softly, accepting his impending death with dignity. There can be no justice here, rendering all arguments useless.

Aizen smiles widely. "You misunderstand me. You should really pay more attention."

"I don't..." Hitsugaya begins, feeling more lightheaded with each second.

Aizen clicks his fingers. The doors to the left open to emit a pale shaking Matsumoto, a visibly reluctant Stark trailing behind her.

Hitsugaya's eyes widen, his feverish mind working overtime.

"No," he breathes as Aizen's words finally penetrate the thick fog clouding his mind. The punishment will fit the crime, and who is now left behind. Matsumoto is the only remaining person that he loves, and so... No! No! No!

"No," he shrieks aloud, finally looking all of ten years old, and not his actual age of fifty.

"I'm afraid so," Aizen says with considerable regret. "It is unfortunate that an innocent person has to suffer in order to exact fitting punishment."

"Please. Don't." Words halting and shaky.

Aizen motions for Stark to shepherd Matsumoto further into the room and to the right of Hitsugaya, who is straining in his bonds now, fresh sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"Perhaps I shall restrain my hand, if you beg nicely," Aizen says lazily, eyes glinting cruelly.

There is no hesitation. Pride is forgotten and laid aside as Hitsugaya manoeuvres his body into a low bow, a difficult feat given his bonds. "Please, I beg you. Do not. Please, Lord Aizen. I will do anything. Just do not. Please. Spare her. Please!"

The words are jumbled up, broken. And immensely pleasing to Aizen, who considers them for all of one second before motioning for Stark to continue.

Matsumoto is gently forced onto her knees.

The brush of cloth on stone draws Hitsugaya's attention away from his pleas and he looks up from his bow, horror stealing into his expression at the tableau set out to the side of him.

His lieutenant is on her knees, throat already bared to her executioner, who has one hand clenched in her hair. The other hand holds a blade to her jugular. The intent to kill is clear.

Hitsugaya looks at the face of his lieutenant. With her head tilted back he cannot see her eyes, but the tightness around her mouth and the tears running down her cheeks tell their own story. Why is she so silent? Placid?

There is no time for further begging. There is no time to say goodbye or to apologise. There is no time for anything, Hitsugaya thinks bleakly as the blade digs deep and he momentarily stops breathing.

He watches, entranced, as the blade withdraws just as quickly and a bright plume of red erupts from the wound in a few short pulses, before the blood begins to lessen in volume.

And through it all there is the gurgled sound of choking, the last rasps and gasps of dying lungs as Matsumoto drowns in her own lifeblood.

It takes minutes for death to claim her. When it is finally over Stark relaxes his hold, allowing the corpse of Matsumoto to gracelessly flop to the floor.

"It is only a shame that my sweet Hinamori is not alive," Aizen says regretfully, eyeing the small boy with interest. "I'm sure the effects would have been all the greater. Still, I think it has had the right impact."

The words are wasted, unheard. They are merely spoken for Aizen's benefit, who enjoys his own voice even without an audience to bear witness. Hitsugaya is silent, unfeeling and frozen as his mind shrinks away from the reality of what he has just witnessed. Not even Aizen's taunts are enough to break through his trauma.

A few seconds pass before Aizen waves a hand in dismissal. "Have his fever treated then lock him up in one of the cells. A hundred years or so of isolation should break him nicely for my purposes."

Stark bows jerkily in answer, before carrying the now comatose boy from the throne room.


	16. For the love of Ichimaru

The illusion ends as soon as Stark clears the throne doors, Hitsugaya flopping in his arms, all the life gone from his shocked body. The slain woman resolves into Kyōka Suigetsu and a few seconds later a side door opens to emit Mayuri and an unharmed Matsumoto, chin held high and ignorant of the scene that has just played out.

"Is the memory modifier ready?" It will not do to waste pleasantries on someone who cannot appreciate social niceties.

"It is."

Aizen moves to place his hands on Matsumoto's shoulders, dismayed to discover that she does not flinch or tremble at his touch. Such a strong, resilient woman to hide her fears so masterfully, he thinks. It is not difficult to see why his Ichimaru loved her so deeply. Aizen does not understand what the two of them shared because he has never been in love, but he had loved Ichimaru as a son. This love for Ichimaru will ensure this woman goes on to live a free and happy life, to the best of his power.

Still, such noble intentions do not dampen the need to take the lovely creature to his bed. "It will be a shame not to sample these," he says regretfully, head tilting downwards to better view the generous bosom on display.

Not even a shudder, which only serves to increase his desire.

"However," he says softly as if in afterthought, "even with no memory of the event, I don't think he'd forgive me such a small trespass."

"The little details, Lord Aizen," Mayuri prompts, sounding bored.

Aizen considers what is already known. It is all too easy to recall the carefree and easy way his Ichimaru used to regale him with his adventures. It is harder to remember how the majority of Ichimaru's escapades involved the woman whom his clever fox called 'his Rangiku.' His. As Ichimaru is hers. Forever.

It would be all too easy to leave this woman's future in the hands of a man who knows little outside of a lab. Aizen briefly entertains the idea of such a vivacious and fun loving person bent over a Petri dish for the rest of her life. It is rather amusing, but...no, Ichimaru would hate him for it.

He is growing bored of this already, so he runs through the details quickly, with a little less care than is usual, eyes still focused on her heaving bosom. "A lover perhaps, definitely not a husband or a family. As attached as she has been to _little _Shirou, I don't think children would suit her hedonistic nature."

"You bastard!" A hand moves to slap his cheek, but it drops mid course because even in anger she recognises the folly of such an action. Clever girl.

"So you do have a use for that tongue, after all," Aizen chides. "Though I can think of a better application."

Silence. Her face burns with hatred and her eyes promise a slow death. It makes Aizen hot when he needs to be cool. Recognising his arousal, he pushes on with the specifications. "Nothing to tie her down except her own desires. I'm sure you can appreciate the variables of such a requirement?"

"I will account for all anomalies in the field. The subject has been surprisingly cooperative."

Aizen nods distractedly, gaze sorrowfully lingering on such a marvellous cleavage.

"Wealth. Status. Fame."

A short pause as Aizen remembers the one shopping spree that Ichimaru had blathered on about for days. "A career in fashion or retail perhaps," he continues, voice becoming more clipped as his irritation grows. The proverb is true then; forbidden fruit really is the most tempting. With warmth beginning to pool within his belly Aizen recognises that the arrangement needs to be brought to a satisfactory conclusion quickly, before the fruit becomes too enticing.

"I think that will do. I'll leave the finer details to you."

"Lord Aizen," Mayuri acknowledges, with a complete lack of respect that Aizen has come to accept from this particular subject.

"Oh and Kurotsuchi Mayuri," Aizen says lastly, "make sure she is _happy_. That is the most important requirement."

Matsumoto blanches, her eyes questioning. Aizen does nothing to illuminate her understanding.

Mayuri looks displeased with the requirement but does not contest the order. "I will do all the necessary research and profiling to ensure that need is met."

"Good. I expect a full report by the end of the week."

Aizen turns away then, unwilling to watch such a beautiful and feisty woman leave his clutches forever. It is only as he hears the door shut that he whispers into the empty room, whispers to the only person that ever mattered.

"I still love you, Ichimaru, despite your love for that woman. I still...love you. "


	17. Rukia

"There is no one left to save," Byakuya reiterates emotionlessly, as he inexorably advances upon the greater and more experienced swordsman with a confidence that is crippling.

Urahara backs away. "There is us," he begins, trying to rally. "And there is Uryuu, Orihime, Matsumoto and—"

"No. The Quincy is beyond saving, as is the girl. Matsumoto Rangiku is missing. There is nothing to tie me here and you are not deserving of existence. Justice has been a long time in coming. Your manipulation of my pride has gone too long unpunished. As has your experimentations that doomed us all to this tragic outcome."

Urahara desires to grant Kuchiki Byakuya this - to die with dignity. If only to absolve the guilt he feels for his culpability in not only creating the Hōgyoku but having the audacity to use a Shinigami as a weapon against Aizen's ambition, without the Shinigami's knowledge or consent.

He forces his body into stillness, and keeps his hands slack at his sides. Accept this, he commands himself.

However, self preservation wins out at the last moment and his trusted Benihime meets the blade so eager to lop off his head, with a sharp grate of steel on steel and a shower of petals.

Urahara looks into the uncompromising visage that promises his demise, and is keenly aware that he is only delaying the inevitable.

White knuckled and desperate to survive, he grits his teeth and begins to exert counter pressure, forcing the other man backwards. Byakuya moves back a few inches, his eyes growing impossibly colder.

Urahara opens his mouth to begin bargaining when a sudden punch to the gut robs him of breath. Urahara's eyes widen in surprise, as he gazes down at the hilt of a new blade protruding just below his ribcage. Nothing so harmless as a punch then, though that's what it felt like upon impact. He instantly recognises the beautiful white pommel with grim understanding.

Byakuya tightly smiles, though it does not reach his eyes. "Felled by your own _weapon_. I find it suitably fitting. Now die with the little honour that is left you."

Urahara tries to speak but all that leaves his mouth is the red of his own ruin. The hand that is holding Benihime slackens, and the sword clatters uselessly to the floor.

Byakuya lowers and re-sheathes Senbonzakura. Then he swiftly steps back to pull Sode no Shirayuki from Urahara's body, in a horrible parody of Aizen's extraction of the Hōgyokufrom Rukia's body on Execution Hill.

Urahara slides to the floor, forgotten.

Byakuya has already departed. There is no honour here. The noble did not even linger long enough to see him hit the floor; he did not even offer the questionable comfort of his company in Urahara's last moments. There is going to be no one by his side as he leaves this world for the last time.

It is a horrible thing to die alone, forsaken by one of your own comrades but it is no more than he deserves. Strangely recognising this does not prove as comforting as he intended.

There is much to regret, he thinks with a pained chuckle. So much he wishes to undo, but in the end his death will have to be enough.

Urahara waits for justice to take him.


End file.
